I was once known to tell a friend that I couldn’t wait to get married because that was the day I would have full control of a DJ. This was before the days of iTunes, which lets you sound-track your own parties (and life) with fabulous playlists.
Music is of huge import to me, and having a great DJ at Mr. Glib’s and my wedding was largely expected. When it came to the food, the flowers, even the dress, I was Miss Easygoing. The only flicker of “Bridezilla” tendencies surrounded the music. I didn’t want a band; I wanted to be able to hear the original songs. So I booked a friend of a friend … who moved to North Carolina four weeks before our wedding date and sent in a replacement.
Let me back up. About four months before my wedding, my younger brother Tyler (my only sibling) was killed in an accident involving a train. Obviously, this was beyond horrible, and while the wedding gave the family a chance to reunite again soon for a gathering that was happy, the wounds were still very raw.
So one week before the wedding, the DJ and I speak to outline the basics: first dance song, bouquet-toss song, parent dances (or lack thereof), and the do-not-play list. We have the following conversation:
LG: And this … this is imperative. I cannot express this enough. Under no circumstance, I don’t care who requests it, DO NOT PLAY “You Never Even Call Me By My Name” by David Allan Coe.
DJ: Oh..kay. Mind if I ask why?
LG: Ummm, well (thinking it is none of his business, but whatever), my brother was hit by a train and killed a few months ago and there is that “train” lyric in that song, and I really don’t want to be upset or have my parents upset in the middle of our wedding reception.
DJ: Oh, wow, so sorry to hear that,
LG: :nervous laugh: Thanks … so, yeah, just leave that track at home …
Four days before the wedding (that’s three days after the above conversation, folks), we talk again.
DJ: Okay, so I’ve got “You Never Even Call Me By My Name” down for your mother/son dance.
FIRST OF ALL. Did you not remember the gruesome story I told you 72 HOURS prior? Second of all, you also clearly forgot that we are not doing “parent” dances. Third of all, what an awesome mother/son dance song that would be: “I got drunk the day Mom got out of prison…”
Should have fired him on the spot and set up a boom box full of cassingles.
So I put my bridesmaids and best friends on high alert (Molly almost kyboshed “Family Tradition” when it started, hearing the first few measures of a country song that was semi-old) and sure enough, David Allan Coe didn’t make an appearance.
Neither did, however, 3/4ths of the music I’d provided for this DJ to play. Oh, yes, that’s the other part of the story. I’d designed my own night of music, with more than enough tunes – in order – for dinner plus dancing. He simply ignored all of the “dancing” CDs (which he then stole).
Instead of opening up the dance floor with Mr. Glib’s and my song (“I Want You to Want Me”), he played “Mustang Sally.” Frank Sinatra (whom I hate – sorry Grandmom) made more than one appearance. Grease megamix? Hell to the yes. The eight-minutes long “Paradise By the Dashboard Light,” which cleared the dance floor utterly? Why, of course!
Not until 20 minutes before the reception’s conclusion did my friend Anne threaten the DJ with bodily harm, forcing him to crack the jewel case on (one of) the CDs I’d so carefully made. I believe five of my songs were played.
I’m not bitter about this at all anymore…
Had Yelp existed at the time, this narrative and more would have been posted. At this point, I can just hope he left the business. And took his “Mustang Sally” right along with him.